Fins to the Left, Fins to the Right: Babies Playing in Shark Infested Waters

How could we possibly top seeing pink flamingos in the wild? Seeing a bunch of baby sharks in a feeding frenzy, of course. Duh.

Our beautiful friend, Jayde, who has been working term charters down here for several years now and is very much 'in the know' when it comes to off-the-beaten-track adventures, wrote us immediately when she heard we were in Anegada. "It's shark breeding season right now, and you are guaranteed to see loads of baby sharks this time of year..." she went on to tell me where to find them, and punctuated what a unique and cool experience it would to be. I took the bait; hook, line and sinker. We were going shark sighting.

The secret spot where the sharks were promised to be was reportedly "very far" from the dinghy dock, so we inquired about a taxi. After quoting us a price of $12 per adult (there were four of us) and $6 per child (five of them) - we decided, literally, to take a hike.

We started walking, forlorn at the prospect of having to abort our shark excursion when an open safari-style vehicle rolled up, asking us where we were headed. If there is one advantage to traveling with children, particularly very small children, it's that hitchhiking is a breeze. Who can turn down two families with five (very adorable) small girls between them? The dreadlocked driver started giving us directions to the area where we might see the sharks when he paused mid sentence, suddenly taking in all of girls... a pitiful smile came across his face and, slightly defeated, he motioned with a chuckle, "Come on in, I'll take you". We were all very grateful for this gesture, as the distance we covered by car would have easily taken us an hour with all the kiddos in tow. When we arrived at our destination (seemingly in the middle of nowhere) we hopped out of his truck, each family giving him a $5 bill and a heart-felt 'thank you', as he waved us off with a smile.

We found ourselves on a concrete bridge overlooking a very active salt pond and a small estuary. Frigates and pelicans were having a field day in the sky above us, dive-bombing the water with torpedo precision and coming up with great gulps, tiny fish zipped around under the water in schools, while soldier crabs tip-toed along the shore. A few dead minnows floated by in the current, easy picking for the more vulturous birds in the area. We kept walking, keeping our eyes on the lookout for fins, when - at the shoreline in water only calf deep - we found them.

It took a while to see them as the water was murky and shallow, but they were there, their predatory silhouettes unmistakable. The baby sharks, only about 2-3 feet long, were darting about this way and that with lightning speed and precision, honing their hunting skills before heading out into the open ocean. Occasionally you'd see a dorsal fin or an angry splash, but then they'd disappear. "There's one!" someone would yell, but before you could get an eyeball on them - they'd be gone. "I see one! Over there!" but you'd turn your head, and you'd catch a glimpse of a diminishing tail. I was amazed to watch them in action - these super-predators in training - they were remarkably fast and incredibly stealthy. But once our eyes adjusted and we knew what we were looking for, we saw them en masse.

Try as we might we couldn't lure them closer to shore get a good picture when Eben got the brilliant idea to collect a few of the dead fish we'd seen in the estuary to feed them. We threw a few minnows near our feet and waited. Sure enough, our little sharks came like puppies to treats. The girls were having a field day, splashing the water with their hands on the surface, "Here, sharky sharky".

After about an hour we started the trek home, this time walking along the shoreline to explore a bit more, when our twins made it clear they needed dinner - stat. We headed back up to the road, hoping for a ride, when another safari taxi drove by just in the nick of time. They stopped, we hopped in, and for another $5 per family, we had ourselves a ride back to the beach bar where the adults spent our saved taxi money on rum punches, and the kiddos ran amok like the little island heathens they are.

Can't you feel 'em circlin' honey?

Can't you feel 'em swimmin' around?

You got fins to the left, fins to the right,

and you're the only bait in town.

You got fins to the left, fins to the right,

and you're the only baby in town.

- Jimmy Buffett

The salt pond and small estuary to the ocean. 

Exploring the little salt pond. Lots to see in these waters if you look close!

Sea birds everywhere, that murky water is where all the sharks were.

The shark in the foreground here had just snatched up a dead fish that Eben fed it.

Believe it or not, there were probably five or six sharks in this shot, the murky water however makes them invisible.

Mira, our newly minted walker, chilling on the sea wall, watching sharks go by.

Haven's all, "I'm not scared!" She is a total fish and wants to swim NO MATTER WHAT (we didn't let her)

Fins to the left and fins to the right!

Arias calling, "Here, sharky, sharky!" See the shark? Look closely!

Mira and Isla, shark spotting.

Haven happily playing on shore as a baby shark lurks in the background.

See that little fin?

Flamingos....Found.

Suffice it to say they found the "pink reef" referenced in my earlier post. The twins and I missed the excursion because of their morning nap, which was probably a blessing in disguise as the seven mile dinghy ride was not only very long, but very bumpy. Not easily swayed by some wind chop, our intrepid troop persevered - keeping a sharp lookout for the requisite pink tinge on the horizon - and sure enough they found it. The girls got to see real, live pink flamingos in the wild and I'm told it was well worth the trip (and achey backs). So far, Anegada has not disappointed.

Another logbook-style note for those of you who might head this way: the Anegada Beach Club is well worth a visit. We've now spent two full afternoons there. Not only are their happy hour prices hard to beat (two for one rum punch and painkillers!), but there's a ton of fun for the kids too. Hammocks are strewn throughout the property, a volleyball court is ready for play, a small fresh water pool beckons from the beach bar, and just over the dune is a spectacular ocean-side beach with super inviting tented rooms overlooking the ocean (for a cost!). There's a great restaurant on the premise serving everything from pizza to their trademark,the BLLT (that extra "L" is for lobster!), and the vibe is chill and casual. It's a great place where three or four hours can easily be wiled away. 

We took the free taxi (a pick up truck with seats in the back that reads: Anegada Beach Club) from the Lobster Trap restaurant which makes the excursion all the more inviting. If you head over that way tell Eugene, the driver, we sent you. He's a fantastic and super accommodating gentleman. Just remind him of all the babies in the back of his truck, he'll remember us for sure. Kind of hard to forget five girls five and under.

This afternoon's exploration agenda? To see the shark breeding grounds over by the Windless Bight...keep an eye on Facebook for pictures!

These cuties were on the lookout - and they found them! 

They couldn't get much closer than this. The pretty birds were a bit skittish.

A nice view from Cow Wreck Bay where we spent a (sargosso filled) hour or so.

No shortage of fun and action here! Anegada Beach Club pool. The bar is a convenient few steps away.

Another view from Cow Wreck Bay

On the way home in the pick up truck

Quote from Eben: "If people think we're reckless with our kids on boats, they should see us in vehicles!" Haven, feeling the wind in her hair. So begins a love of convertibles??

What's the Top Sailing Destination?

"What is your favorite destination?" is probably the second most common question that cruisers get asked by landlubbers (after "How can you afford this?") It's a hard one to answer because it's kind of like asking a parent, "Who's your favorite child?" Each place is so unique with it's own special appeal and when it's all said and done, most islands and destinations end up balancing out based on their features, attractions and -yes- minor detractions. Some islands are known for their inland adventures, some are better known for their sea life. Some locals are friendly, some more aggressive. Some offer fun social activities whereas others are uninhabited. Cheap vs. expensive, beach bars vs. beach combing ....yadda yadda... All of the above work in a yin/yang sort of way depending on the destination, so to say what's the "best" is not only totally subjective but really hard because there are so many variables to consider.

So when LOOK Insurance Services ran their own list on the "Top 5 Most Exotic Sailing Destinations" and invited us to chime in, I decided to use their criteria of: 'climate', 'scenery' and 'clearness of the water' to come up with our "top destination".

So, based on those three things, the winner is (drum roll please)....The Bahamas. Hands down.

Granted, we've only covered a tiny sliver of the planet by boat but for us - based on our travels thus far - it doesn't get much better than the Bahamas.

Why?

To say they are "awesome" really does them no justice. But they. are. awesome.

When we were first planning our trip five years ago, we were going to skip this island chain and sail right for the British Virgin Islands. Our (embarrassing) mentality was, "If they are so close to the USA, then they can't be that cool". I know, what an incredibly ignorant way to think. More planning and the desire to take "baby steps" finally put this incredible island chain on our sailing itinerary and for that I am very, very grateful. We've cruised the Exumas twice and plan to spend a full season in the Bahamas in the near future. So what's the deal? I'll break it down for you:

The Climate:
Sharing the same latitude with much of Florida means the Bahamas are almost a temperate -yet still tropical - climate. We cruised there between the months of February and April and we never felt uncomfortably hot. Daytime it was bathing suits, shorts and tanks and evenings almost always required a light sweatshirt or long pants. After having spent two summers in Grenada (out of the hurricane zone) where it is hotter than Hades, I really enjoy/appreciate a place where you don't stew in your own sweat 24/7.

The Scenery:
When I scan through the sixteen thousand photos I have from the past four years (note to self: must organize photos) - the best are, bar none, the ones from the Bahamas. They are almost cliche in their "tropical island-ness" and each one looks like a photoshopped postcard. Except they are not. Low lying sun-bleached islands surrounded by water that covers every shade of blue and green from cobalt to topaz, from teal to hunter with endless vistas of sea and sky for as far as the eye can see. It's spectacular.

The Water:
Sigh. It's all about the water. The average depth of the Bahama banks is something ridiculous like ten feet. It's also as clear as the day is long. Literally. You can drop your anchor in twenty-four feet of water and watch it dig in to the pillowy, white sand (added bonus: anchoring in twelve to fifteen feet of clear water is so much nicer/easier than anchoring in thirty feet of dark water). When you are sailing, you can look over the rail and see red starfish thirty feet down. We have yet to go anywhere with water as beautiful as the water in the Bahamas (the Tobago Cays in the Grenadines come close, as do the Turks and Caicos). The windwards and leewards don't even come close to the kind of water clarity that the Bahamas dishes up each and every day.

....and I just can't stop there....

Other bonuses of the Bahamas:

The Safety:
This is a biggie. The only place we ever locked our dinghy up was in Nassau (which is the capitol and where something like 75% of Bahamians live, leaving many many islands completely uninhabited) and never needed to raise it or lock it at night (not the case just about everywhere else we've travelled). We never worried when we left our boat and we never felt threatened or harassed by the locals. Tourism is the countries "bread and butter" and they work hard to maintain a great reputation. Furthermore, because most of the islands in the Exumas can only be accessed by boat or small charter plane, locals in these very small communities really respect and love the visitors they do get. There is a peacefulness and serenity that is unique to the Bahamas and to experience it is something quite wonderful.

The Variety:
The Bahamas offer over 700 islands, cays and islets to explore. There are so many places to see that you can cruise the Bahamas for ten years and still discover new and interesting spots that you've never seen before. It's no wonder so many folks return year after year. Within the Bahamas are a slew of "distinct" island chains that all have their own 'feel' and offer up something a little different. From the Abacos to the Berrys, from the Exumas to the Raggads there is truly something for everyone.

The Solitude:
There are not too many places in this world where you can feel like you have your own private place. The Bahamas are one such place. We could travel with the "herd" and be among other cruisers when we wanted, but if we were craving some solitude - it was only a short sail away. With so many islands and so many anchorages, you are never too far from your very own paradise.

The Sailing:
Because of the way the Bahamas are situated, you can access most islands without ever having to sail in the open ocean.  The Islands of the Bahamas act as a natural wave barrier so if you stay "inside" the banks, you get all the wind but almost none of the waves making many passages in decent weather true pleasure sails. Also, because there are so many islands you can almost always sail where the wind takes you and end up in a great little anchorage. Furthermore, because the islands are so close together, you almost never have to do a passage longer than a few hours (aside from crossing the gulf stream) which is also nice for those just starting out or traveling with small children.

The People:
Bahamians are among the most generous people we have come across in our travels. We've been invited into their homes, their businesses and their churches with open arms. They have not been embittered by mass tourism and are just plain good. Considering that a large part of the enjoyment of travel is connecting with the locals, this is a biggie for us.

The convenience:
Being so close to Florida and the good ole' US of A has its perks and many cruisers sail to and from the states in a single season to either store their boat, do repairs or re-provision. Also - because the many islands of the Bahamas are all united under a single flag, you can travel between them without having to clear in and out of customs (which can be a royal pain in the butt), not to mention the fact that you can use a single SIM card to stay connected while you are there (as opposed to the windwards/leewards where you must check in and out and where you might need a new cell provider from island to island). The Bahamas truly are, "So close, yet so far away."

So there you have it. Just a few of the reasons we love the Bahamas.  So what do you think? Do you have a favorite sailing destination?  I also did an additional Q&A I did on the Bahamas for our good friends on s/v Necesse if you want to learn more!

When Cockroaches Happen to Clean People

“Britt, how many roaches would you say we kill a day?” I heard Scott call casually over his shoulder from the front seat of the rental minivan we were sharing with our new friends.  We had just gone grocery shopping and he was talking to the husband, Luuck (pronounced Luke).  Apparently the mention of “cardboard" and the common knowledge amongst boaters that it's a vehicle for roach eggs gave Scott the go-ahead to tell our compadres about our little, er... situation. “I mean, like, two or three at least, right?” he continued with a shrug.  Like it was no big deal.  Like we were discussing flooring options: hardwood or wall-to-wall? Hmmmm....

What the HELL!?!?

I wanted to die right there.  I mean, what was he thinking making our cockroach issue (it is NOT a problem!) public?  I thought we had an understanding! It was supposed to remain our dirty little secret until we got rid of them, at which point we'd talk about our former pests much like people reminisce about the Depression Era and shudder as we recalled "the time we lived with roaches".  I mean, we are clean people.  Cockroaches aren't supposed to thrive amongst people like us.  This should not be happening.

I sat silent while I turned a lovely shade of crimson and slowly looked over to my friend Darcy in defeat, knowing full well that she would never ever come over to our veritable roach motel for a another happy hour again.  Dinner? Ha! Forget about it.  Bring her baby over to play with my baby?  No way, Jose.  It was over (not true, but still, I thought that at the time).  I felt like Hester Prynne with the scarlet letter on my chest, only my "letter" was a cardboard cutout of a German cockroach, antennae and all. "Hi! I'm Brittany...oh, the cockroach on my chest?  It's nothing, really.  Just ignore him...hey, where are you going?"  Gross.

To add insult to injury, Scott prattled on...

“They’re small though, really tiny...” he said matter-of-factly, "... I mean – the biggest we’ve killed is no longer than three-quarters of an inch, wouldn't you agree, Britt?”  I swear to God if I had "go-go Gadget" arms I would have strangled him right then and there.  But being that we were in the company of our new friends and respective children. I chuckled uncomfortably and said, “Um, honey…you do realize our friends are never going to come over again, right?”  If looks could kill.

There is no one, no one who doesn't find cockroaches in a living space completely and utterly appalling.  And rightfully so.  They are synonymous with filth and squalor.  Our roach problem issue has been documented before on the blog - but since we've been cruising, I wanted to keep hush hush about it because, frankly, I wanted to stick my head in the sand.  We've tried the boric acid cookies, we sprinkled Borax powder liberally in nooks and crannies, we tried the motels, hotels and traps and we fogged the boat on six - yes six - occasions.  Useless.  Each time, the little monsters prevailed.  I could almost hear their shrill, high-pitched roachy-laughter echoing from the woodwork every time a new battle tactic was attempted. "Good luck suckers!" I imagined them saying, "You know the Armageddon-style explosion that killed the dinosaurs and all life on earth as we knew it? Yeah.  We survived that! Bwa-hahahaha!" they'd say.  It was - is - maddening.  It's even worse because I am of the OCD variety when it comes to cleanliness and I have begun to take their presence on our boat as a personal affront.  I mean, if there was a holster that could contain a roll of paper towel and a solid cleaning agent, I would wear that bad boy with pride.  I clean a lot.  I repeat, WE ARE NOT DIRTY PEOPLE.

And that's not all!  I'm also compulsive about how we store our food.  Everything is in airtight containers, double or triple bagged and after meals there is nary a crumb for them to munch on.  Unfortunately, I have learned they don't need actual food to survive.  They can happily make a meal of book-binding glue, soap, nylon stockings, grease and dried skin flakes (we will be exfoliating, family-style, on the aft deck nightly now).  To make matters worse, they will even eat their own feces and dead brethren in a pickle.  It is clear we will not be starving them off our boat.

I was at a loss, so I hit the world wide web.  Waving the white flag and accepting the possibility that we might be living with them for a while longer, I wanted to know just how bad roaches were.  Are they really as gross as everyone says?  Did they really spread ebola?  Was my boat indeed a cesspool?  Turns out - none of these things were true.  Cockroaches are actually the cats of the insect world and clean themselves fastidiously - even obsessively so.  According to this article they are not as dirty as people think and the only filth they spread is the filth that they are actually living in and walk across.  Therefore, if you keep a clean house (as we do), you have clean roaches (semi-happy dance).  A human hand carries far more germs and bacteria than a cockroach.  And your cell phone?  Dirtier than a toilet seat.  This news made me breathe a small sigh of relief, however temporary.  They were not, in fact, going to infect my family with a flesh-eating disease.  This did not make living with them any better, of course,  but it was nice to know all my cleaning was not going to waste.  I was actually cleaning our roaches too.

The real problem with roaches is, from what I can gather, is their excrement.  Apparently people are all sorts of allergic to their - er- deposits and this is their true claim to pesty fame.  Luckily, the Meyers family shows no signs of being allergic and I have yet to see any roach poop in our living area (I look, trust me).  The other down side of having roaches (and the bigger one, in my opinion) is psychological.  I now see imagined roaches EVERYWHERE I look.  The errant piece of fuzz that blows across the counter?  A roach.  That tiny crumb that fell off my toast?  Roach.  That little shadow I see across the galley?  Roach.  The coffe ground stuck to the side of the sink? Roach.  The random drill hole in the wall?  Roach.  The stray hair caressing my back? Gah!! ROACH!  I feel like I'm living in the Twilight Zone whereby I see things that are not really there.  I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life in this regard and I will forever see roaches in every tiny dark shadow and little black speck that crosses my peripheral from here on out.  It could be worse, I guess.

That said, we have not conceded to live peacefully amongst our persistent pests.  Despite the fact that they might share my OCD nature, they still gross us out and we want them gone.  We have a full-blown, real-deal exterminator coming today.  He is going to spread some industrial strength cockroach-killing gel around the boat and we're buying an extra tube of it from him for good measure.  He, and several others we've talked to, swear this will work.  We're being cautiously optimistic.  In the meantime, we'll just keep reminding ourselves that we're the owners of clean cockroaches because - I would like to stress - we are clean people.  And yes, cockroaches can happen to clean people.

Dolphin Encounter on the SUP

Unfortunately, I didn't bring a camera.  But trust me when I say it was very much like this. Image found here.

I love dolphins.  Then again, who doesn't?  If you don't get giddy at the sight of Flipper in the wild, then you have no soul as far as I'm concerned.  They are incredible creatures and it doesn't take much exposure to them to realize that they're not your average "eat, sleep, poop, procreate, and die" mammal.  They are truly magical.  There's really no other word to describe it. Yes, they are beautiful - and we all love pretty things - but they are so much more.  They have that je ne sais quoi...

Living on the water means we get to see these beauties with relative frequency, and every time - I mean every single time - I turn into a squealing, giddy five year old at the site of them.  It's like Christmas morning circa 1985 when I got that coveted Cabbage Patch doll I so desperately wanted each time I see them breach at our bow.  I want to do the happy-happy-joy-joy dance all over again.

So you can imagine my excitement when I went out for a paddle on our standup paddleboard and was visited by a momma and her baby for a whole fifteen minutes.  Fifteen minutes of dolphin play time is like an eternity in adult play time.  It was, for lack of a better word, incredible.

I had just put Isla down for her afternoon nap when I decided to jump in the water and get some exercise.  It was a gusty day, and each time the wind piped up in the bay I could see the puffs getting closer by the tell-tale ripples on the water.  When this would happen, I'd point the bow of the board into the wind and paddle with all my might to make forward momentum.  When it passed - I would relax a little and take in my surroundings.  It was during one of the lulls when I saw it - a fin slink down into the water.  I stood on my board completely frozen for a moment while the imaginary personal assistant in my head searched frantically for the "how to decipher dorsal fins" paperwork in her messy file cabinet.

Dorsal fins breaking the surface usually mean one of two things:  shark or dolphin.  Being that I now have seen both (remember my shark sighting?), I can distinguish between the two.  A shark surfacing is slightly menacing: gradually up and gradually down, purposefully slow like a retractable x-acto knife.  A dolphin fin is decidedly less menacing: it's a smooth pattern that follows a small arc, much quicker and more frequent.  If the fins confuse you, a dolphin becomes super obvious when they take a breath and exhale a plume of air out of their blowhole - at which point you can take a breath as well, because you will most certainly be holding yours (if you are in the water, that is).

So there I was, floating idly on the paddleboard with this playful dolphin coming right at me.  Then I heard a powerful exhale behind me and saw yet another dolphin coming at me - and this one was a baby!  Being closed in on by a mama dolphin and her calf is like seeing a Unicorn in Sherwood forest.  I got on my knees and quietly followed their shadows with my paddle as they continued to surface, side by side, not four feet from where I floated.  It became clear that the mama was teaching her baby some sort of lesson, so each time they surfaced I would gently exclaim, "Good job baby!" and "Hi baby!" and "Yay, beauties!" as I leaned in closer to the water.  Not sure if any of the boaters around saw what was happening, but it must have looked weird to see a woman floating aimlessly on a SUP talking to the water...

I was so tempted to jump in and swim with them, but didn't want to scare them off.  Mama's are very protective of their babies and I didn't want to appear as a threat to them.  So I just watched them surface just out of arms reach.  I could see the scars on the mama's back.  They surfaced so slowly, so purposefully it was as if they were checking me out.  Of course I have no photos because I literally jumped in the water to cool off and just grabbed the paddle and went out.  I cursed myself a couple of times during the close encounter for not being able to document such an incredible moment but realized that it didn't need to be photographed - it would forever be etched in my mind's eye, and that was good enough for me.

After about fifteen minutes of utter mesmerization  I looked up and saw Scott waving his arms at me from the dinghy dock to be picked up, and - almost as if they instinctively knew I had to go - my dolphin friends disappeared just as quickly as they came.  Hello and Goodbye.  Poof.  Like magic.

Shark Sighting

Seeing a shark in the water really gets your blood pumping.  We've seen plenty of nurse sharks and a couple of lemon sharks before but those aren't the kind of sharks I'm talking about.  I'm talking about scary sharks.  The kind that can take a nice sized bite out of a limb.

We were in the stunningly beautiful Rudder Cay, the neighboring island to David Copperfield's Musha Cay, when a fellow cruiser dinghied over to say hello and tell us about a piano that the king of illusions himself had allegedly sunk not to far from where we were.  It made for a pretty neat snorkel excursion he told us, because not only was there a piano down there - but a mermaid as well.  So off we went to see for ourselves.

Because we have a baby, snorkeling looks a little different for us.  The three of us pile into the dinghy and head to our destination where Scott and I snorkel one at a time while the other stays back with Isla.  It's worked well thus far.  Snorkeling alone is better than not snorkeling at all.

Scott went first, and I followed about ten minutes later with our awesome Olympus underwater digital camera in tow.  The piano and musical mermaid were in about fifteen feet of water, with nothing around them but soft white sand.  It made a beautiful contrast in what would have otherwise been a very boring snorkel spot.  As I was free diving to get pics, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was watching me.  I kept looking back into the dusky blue water at my back, but saw nothing.  I shook it off and attributed the feeling to a bonafide shark paranoia brought on by a childhood of watching JAWS I, II and III on repeat.  I swam back to the boat and no sooner had I hopped in the dink and removed my fins and snorkel when Scott's eyes went wide.  He looked at the water behind me and said very calmly, "Shark".

"No way.  No way.  No way" I kept repeating as it's black silhouette slipped directly under our dinghy with a slow and meandering side to side swagger.  This was no nurse shark.  "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." I said over and over as we watched it swim toward the rocky shore.  This thing had definitely been watching me.  Not only that, but it had followed me back to the dinghy.  I know they are a curious species and I'm sure I was in no real danger, but still - putting two and two together was unnerving to say the least.  Scott grabbed the camera, put his hand underwater and started snapping pics.

We're not sure what type of shark this is, but he was at least five feet long.  The photos we were able to get were when we followed him into the shallows where he leisurely swam before heading back out to wherever it was he came from.  Suffice it to say, we didn't go swimming the rest of the day.  While I know it's more likely to get struck by lightening than attacked by a shark, I have zero interest in playing those odds while swimming with one.

From now on, I think I'll stick to snorkeling the coral reefs and leave the piano-playing mermaids to Mr. Copperfield...unless the shark was all part of the illusion?

A Touchy Subject

Yesterday, I witnessed a local man butchering a sea turtle.  It was a first for me; I had seen the signs and heard rumors of turtle killing and consumption in the southern Caribbean, but I had never actually seen it.  Yesterday, I did.  And it made me sad.  Really sad.

We were walking back to our dinghy after enjoying a happy hour when we came upon several local men cleaning their bountiful catch of grouper, snapper and other fish.  I heard more action from below the dock, looked down, and saw a man hidden from plain view, hurriedly cleaning something else entirely.  It was a Hawksbill sea turtle.  I was shocked and stood over him watching for a moment before Scott ushered me away.  "Is that legal?" I whispered to another cruiser who looked at me with sad eyes, shrugged and mouthed "I don't know".  I thought they were endangered, but I couldn't remember for sure.  The rushed way he was hacking did seem a bit clandestine...but who was I to judge?  So we quietly walked past, got into our dinghy and drove away.  It wasn't my place to say anything, anyway....or was it?

When we returned to the boat I actually took to our Facebook page and wrote: "Kinda bummed...just saw a local cleaning up a sea turtle...with a filet knife. I know we have no place to "judge" - but it did make me sad to see him hacking off the fins. I think they might even be endangered? They are so magnificent. Sad."  It got a lot of response.  The intention of that post was not to fuel debates about whether or not this man should have killed the turtle, nor was my purpose to open up a discussion about why this turtle should have our sympathy when so many factory farmed animals do not and I certainly wasn't trying to put my "educated" self on a pedestal by deeming this man ignorant and virtually berate him for his actions.  My post was simply to voice my sadness over seeing something I wished I hadn't.

But that little impulse post started all sorts of discussions and so I decided to take it a step further and write about it here.

One rather...er, passionate, follower had this to say:
"Did you offer to give the guy $100 bucks so he wouldn't have to eat a turtle? Did you offer to educate him on the status of the species and it's place in the ecosystem?; Did you give him a laptop, show him how to use it....so he could be 'connected'? You and all these other dumb asses on here who would hang this guy....have no idea what it's like to be in his shoes. So f****** typical for those who have to judge those who don't or for those who are 'educated' to judge those who are 'ignorant'. Maybe the guy needed to feed his family, maybe the turtle was all he caught, maybe he is supporting his grandparents who can't fish for themselves and the list goes on and on......disappointing to say the least."* -John

As it turns out, the hawksbill sea turtle is a "critically endangered" creature.  While hunting turtles was actually legal here up until 2009, the hunting of the Hawksbill turtle has been outlawed since 1986.  If we are to apply the logic of our eloquent friend John, perhaps local Bahamians should be excluded from the law?  But then again, isn't this the exact mentality that gets us in these messes in the first place?  Just walk away.  Pretend you didn't see anything and walk away.

While it is true that I have no idea of the circumstances of the fisherman's life and plight (perhaps he desperately needed the money from the shell?  Maybe he doesn't know they are endangered?), nor the details surrounding the death of the sea turtle (was it already dead? snared in a net? accidentally killed?), I do know a couple of things:
1.  If the turtle was in fact "hunted", there was no need to do so for sustenance alone.  There are plenty more fish in the sea and the local Bahamian's are expert anglers.
2.  Hunting a sea turtle requires work and effort.  Not only are they rare, they are very fast and not easy to catch.  It is not common to "accidentally" pull one up with a fishing line.

My question is this:  what would you have done?  What is the proper recourse in a situation like this?  We are visitors here, passerby's who know very little of the "real" lives of these folks.  I have no intention or desire to be the "environmental" police and I do not believe in forcing ourselves and beliefs on others.  But on the other hand, we're talking about a critically endangered animal here.  One who's numbers are dwindling in large part because of human impact.  So who is responsible?  Is it best to turn a blind eye and walk away?  Or should we try to speak our minds and share what we know?  It's a very difficult position, and I am curious what your thoughts are?   I honestly do not know the answer.

* If you actually read the thread, you will see that this man's impressions of what people were saying are pretty far off.

The Dog Under the Table

Waste management is something we're always mindful of out here.  We don't have garbage disposals, we lack a "garage" to store full garbage bags, and it can sometimes be a while before we get to an island where we can throw things away.  As such, one way we limit the size (and stench) of our garbage is by throwing almost all organic matter overboard where it gets washed out to sea and back into the ecosystem.

So, imagine our surprise when this guy swam up from under our boat as we tossed over our food scraps the other day.  We've seen plenty of fish (and even a couple small sharks) swim up and dine on our leftovers, but this guy was unlike anything we'd seen before. We had no idea what the heck he was.  He measured about two feet long, had what looked like some sort of flat panel on his head and swam kind of like a shark.  We were stumped.  Turns out, he's a remora.

I knew about remoras but for some reason in my imagination they were always very small so this guy's two foot length threw me off.  They're actually pretty interesting fish and have made a habit out of lazily dining on the scraps of others.  The flat piece on top of their head is actually a suction which they use to attach themselves to larger ocean dwelling creatures (like whales, sharks, rays, and - as we learned - even boats).  The relationship between the remora and 'host' is largely one sided with the remora benefitting tremendously from their adopted vessel by hitching rides, getting protection and, of course, eating their leftovers. As nothing is gained or lost for the host, they simply ignore the remoras and let them be.

Perhaps they can be called the "Fido's" of the sea?  They seem to like table scraps just as much!

When Pigs Fly...

While we didn’t find any evidence that pigs can fly yet, we did witness that they have the potential to be pretty decent swimmers.  At least the pigs here at Big Majors Spot in Staniel Cay are...

Placed here some years ago by local residents, these “wild” pigs have managed to adapt pretty effortlessly to life on a small island by making themselves a mammalian freak-show in return for food.  Our guidebook suggested we feed these mysterious swimming pigs lettuce and/or bread (no meat), so off we went with a wilting head of romaine to lure the pigs from the beach in the hopes of witnessing their aquatic prowess.  While we were able to entice them to swim out to our dinghy, they completely snubbed our offerings.  Upon seeing that all they were getting was some lettuce, they promptly turned around and swam right back to shore, leaving our romaine floating pathetically behind them.  It seems their palettes have evolved alongside their swimming skills.  

Regardless of their distaste for salad, it’s pretty wild to see a pig swimming out to your boat, snout in the air like a snorkel, grunting away with every stroke.  So there you have it; pigs do indeed swim.  But you won't catch me swimming with them, until, of course, they fly.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

We cannot deny the fact that he is pretty cute!

...and while there might not have been a creature stirring all through the house,  there is a very strong possibility that there is mouse creeping around on our boat.

It all began the other night when my friend Melody and I were enjoying a meal in the cockpit.  We were talking in between mouthfuls of pizza, when all of a sudden I saw a black flash along the deck of the boat next to us.  My face must have registered something, because when I looked back at Melody she said, "Okay, you saw that too, right?"

Yes,  I had.  Neither of us could explain it or knew what 'it' was.  It was almost like a flash of light along the toe rail - it moved that fast and effortless - except it was black, like a shadow.  We pondered what it might be be for a few minutes and then decided it must have been some weird shadow phenomenon and was probably nothing.

Twenty more minutes of exuberant conversation followed and we had all but forgotten our little mystery and then, like a flash, I saw the black shadow zip by again.  "Okay!" I exclaimed "there is definitely something on that boat!  I think it's a mouse".  We went to the dock and tried to view the decks from various angles but saw nothing.  We shrugged it off again and continued with our evening, keeping a keen eye on our neighboring boat.

The next day the North wind piped up and it got cold.  Really cold.  Our new boat has no heat and after I made sure Isla was all bundled in the v-berth with extra clothes over her jammies and tucked under her blanket, I jumped into bed and kicked and squirmed until I could find warmth.  It was hard to sleep.  It was so cold I was physically shivering and the wind was howling in gusts causing the sounds of squeaking fenders and stretching dock lines to fill the boat.  Just as I was finally managing to drift off into a chilly slumber, I heard it:  the teeny-tiny, oh-so-faint pitter patter of feet on the deck above me.  It was so faint that it was almost inaudible.  So muted that I could almost convince myself it was my ears playing tricks on me.  Had I not witnessed the scurrying shadow the night before, I would have thought nothing of it.  But I had seen that damn shadow, and after straining to hear, I was pretty sure there was a mouse on deck.  I did not sleep well that night.

The next morning I took to the deck to see if I could find any sign of our light-footed nocturnal intruder and sure enough, there it was:  Poop.  The telltale brown oblong pellets of mouse poop, to be specific. Since there was no one around for me to lament to, I took to our Facebook Page where over fifty of you wonderful folks gave us advice on how to deal with this little issue.  Now, I must remind you that there is no sign of a mouse (or mice) INSIDE the boat (so far...gulp).  At present, it seems it/they were only on deck and eating some seeds that had blown aboard.  Despite this fact, an overwhelming number of you suggested we get a cat.  For real.  Like buying a creature who's 12-14 year life expectancy (and dependency on you) is no big deal.  Like inviting an animal onto a (relatively) small sail boat requires no forethought.  Don't get me wrong, I like cats and all (I had one I adored much of my early adult life), and I know that they're actually great boat pets and excellent mice killers, but impulse buying a cat because of one measly little mouse is not on the agenda.  I learned early in life never to say "never", but at this point - mice or no mice - we have ZERO interest in getting a cat.  What we need to do is get off the dock.

As luck would have it, my brilliant friend Carolyn over at The Boat Galley wrote a post on this very subject a while back and reposted it yesterday.  Because I am no expert in pest control - I will turn you to her article and, if our mouse turns out to be more than a Christmas visitor, I'll be following some of her suggestions as well.

So...may your night before Christmas be as it was intended; critter and creature free.  Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Turtles of Bequia

If you ever find yourself on the delightful little Caribbean island of Bequia, you must make the side trip to the Old Hegg Turtle Sanctuary.  Founded in 1995 by skin diving fisherman Orton King - the Old Hegg Turtle Sanctuary has but one goal:  to conserve the critically endangered Hawksbill Turtle.

Under threat from hunting for it's meat, eggs and exquisite shell - hawksbill turtle populations worldwide are dwindling at an alarming rate.  Enter Orton "Brother" King.  Mr. King's journey to conservation began modestly by collecting a few small hatchlings and attempting to rear them in a plastic tub.  Since those successful humble beginnings, he has released over 2,000 turtles back into the ocean.

The turtle sanctuary now has it's own free-standing building with about fifteen salt water ponds inside.  "Brother" King collects and rears the sea turtles during the most vulnerable years of their live (0-3) and for the first six months, feeds them a diet of canned tuna fish before graduating to small fish.  When the turtles mature to about three years of age, he marks them by drilling a small hole in the back of their shell, and releases them back into the wild.  Divers and snorkelers throughout the Grenadines have spotted King's turtles, proof positive his efforts are not in vain.

Orton King (pictured in Red) explaining his efforts to a couple turtle enthusiasts.

Some facts about the Hawksbill Turtle:

• Hawksbill turtles are "smaller" than most sea turtles.  Their shells reach 45 inches and their maximum weight is about 150 pounds.
• They are found in tropical waters throughout the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans.
• They are normally found near healthy reefs as opposed to deep, vast ocean stretches.
• Hawksbill's are omnivorous and feed on sponges, small fish, marine algea, mollusks, jellyfish and crustaceans.
• While their hard shells protect them from most predators, they still fall prey to large fish, sharks, octopus and humans.  Human impact is currently their greatest threat.
• Like other turtles, Hawksbills make incredible oceanic migrations travelling thousands of miles each year.  It is believed they use the earth's magnetic pull to navigate the world's oceans.
• While they breathe air, they can spend hours underwater at a time.
• Adult females return to land to lay their eggs, most of the time they return to the very same beach they were hatched from.
• The average life span of the hawksbill sea turtle is 30-50 years.

A 'salt pond' which is housing a few dozen baby hawksbill's.

A nearly mature Hawksbill, this one liked her neck rubbed.

Sea turtles are magnificent creatures and, like their friends the dolphin, they bring instant joy to anyone who is able to see them in the wild.  If you find yourself in Bequia, be sure to make a quick stop a the Old Hegg Turtle sanctuary and help support these incredible creature's survival in the world's oceans. 

Love,

Brittany & Scott