Hope Town, Elbow Cay

Road that bisects the length of the island from northwest to southeast.

I am writing from captivity in the Hope Town Harbour on Elbow Cay.  Quite literally, we are unable to leave except at high tide, which occurs twice each day.  We haven’t wanted to “escape” for the past several days, so you know we’re not suffering much in our “confinement.”

Harbor entrance:  Line boat up with street terminating at the water.

We were anchored off Tahiti Beach, three miles south of Hope Town when we heard someone announce there were vacant mooring balls in the harbor.  We jumped at the chance to get one of them.  There was heavy weather coming and our plan up until the very moment of that broadcast was to return to Marsh Harbour, a very large, well protected harbor some 15 miles away.  

Elbow Cay Lighthouse from within harbor

Hope Town harbor is quite small and there’s not enough room to swing at anchor, so mooring balls are the only option.  We’d met cruisers that had been waiting a month for a mooring ball to open up in the Hope Town harbor!  We pulled anchor and timed our arrival at the entrance to Hope Town Harbour to coincide with high tide, willingly choosing our captivity, at least one day at a time. 

Golf cart ride into Hope Town from Tahiti Beach

New friends gave us a ride into Hope Town only the day prior to acquiring a mooring ball inside.  People are nice like that here!  He picked us up in a golf cart from Tahiti Beach and drove us the 3 miles along the spine of the island to the northwestern part, where the Hope Town Settlement is located.   Charming little community of colorful buildings and extremely narrow little streets.

Wyannie Malone  Museum

Heavy weather rolled in over the course of the next two days, just as predicted.  Largely it was a succession of big blows but without much rain. The boat heeled far to port at times, and then far to starboard with extreme wind shifts.  It was an exhilarating time for someone like me, who enjoys experiencing the power of the wind…….from a safe and snug harbor, that is.   We enjoyed watching the wind whip up waves on the Atlantic beach side on our walks with Jax.  Awesome!

Jax met a new Border Collie bro'

Hope Town, like New Plymouth is a Loyalist settlement.  The residents found refuge here in the islands in the 1780’s during our American Revolution, which they apparently found abhorrent.   Why would anyone want to break away from the Monarchy, they must have thought.  The American history book writers refer to them as the Tories.  Here, however, history paints them as Loyalists.  It’s all about perspective.  

 ~100 residents died of cholera in the 1850's

The Bahamas did remain with the U.K.until 1973 when the U.K. no longer wanted to “own” the islands.  Many residents were quite unhappy about that development and pleaded to remain within the fold.  Alas, it was not to be.  

No vehicular traffic goes further without permit.   Jax plans to tell this golf cart they're much too noisy.

A wide gate remains closed across the little road leading into the oldest part of Hope Town.   It reminds drivers that there is no motorized traffic allowed beyond it.  The only exceptions are the very diminutive service vehicles and those with a permit to use a golf cart, owing perhaps to difficulty with ambulation, I surmise.  

Tiny little trucks.  Makes me smile.

Many of the buildings remain from the 1800’s.  Folks who build new construction are encouraged to build in keeping with the earlier architecture.  Many of those well kept little houses now are managed by real estate companies and rented by the week or month.  From our cockpit, we watch tourists arrive by ferry boat, pulling their travel cases on wheels as they head off on foot down one of the two tiny streets that follow the curve of the harbor, shaped much like a large inverted “C.” 

The extent of the Farmer's Market vegetables is displayed here.

We were eager to go to the Farmer’s Market on Saturday with the promise of fresh locally grown vegetables.  Expectations far exceeded the reality of the Farmer’s Market, however.   We could choose from a few types of greens, tomatoes, small bananas and cilantro.  Sigh.  All the cruisers filed into the little park area, anyway, to carry away the few fresh vegetables that were available—and glad to have them.

Elbow Cay Lighthouse

On the south side of the harbor stands the Elbow Cay Lighthouse, built by the British in the 1800’s.  The prospect of the lighthouse was one time when the Loyalists took issue with a decision by the Crown.  Their position was something like this….  "If a lighthouse warns ships away from the reefs, there will be fewer shipwrecks.   With fewer shipwrecks there will be fewer salvages and that will put a big dent in our wrecking business."   Salvaging or “wrecking” was a legitimate occupation for the Abaconians.   The folks of Hope Town (and perhaps surrounding islands too) sabotaged the building of the lighthouse in a variety of ways, but eventually the Crown won out and it was built.  

Fresnel lens.  Note kerosene lantern in the middle above.

We toured the Wyannie Malone Historical Museum yesterday.  I found myself wondering how many of the items on display were salvaged from ships torn apart on the reefs.  We found it to be a very interesting little museum, although presentation of the history of black residents of the Abacos was nearly nonexistent.  I’m hoping that will be rectified within the near future. 

"Lend a hand, or two?"

We’ve climbed the lighthouse twice.  First,  just to see it—the last remaining manually operated Fresnel lens lighthouse in the world.  The lighthouse keepers climb those steps every two hours all night long to rewind the mechanism.  They haul up kerosene hand over hand by use of a pulley and sisal rope through the center of the lighthouse.   

Last race of the season was quite distant.

The second time we climbed the lighthouse was to watch the last Hope Town Sailing Club sailboat race of the year.  We carried our binoculars up with us and enjoyed a great, albeit distant view of the race course.  All boaters were welcome to participate.  We couldn’t have raced our own boat even if we’d wanted to—we were trapped inside the harbor by virtue of low tide.  There are far worse places to be held “captive.”  

Gotta love old lighthouses.

We are, however, running low on vegetables and we’ll need to make a mad dash to Marsh Harbour on a high tide one of these days.  This may rank as the first time I’ve wanted to break free from paradise for want of a green salad.

The Golden Arc de Mirth

We meet people everywhere we go, even at the top of the lighthouse

Stories!  Oh, the wonderful stories we get to hear!  Meeting new people every day we hear stories told with accents from all over the world.  Among others, we have been entertained by the stories of an Englishman with a sharp wit and a clever tongue who unintentionally taught us a number of British slang words.  The only British slang that I previously knew how to use properly were ‘bloody hell’ and ‘bollocks’.  I cannot for the life of me, imagine why Americans opted out of maintaining these useful expressions.  Was it to slight those rebellious Loyalists?  Who knows?  

Oh, those Loyalists!

The most provincial phrase we learned was ‘Tickedy-boo’— now what do you suppose that means?   It is used to express absolute delight as near as I can figure.  The Englishman told us about the years that he and his wife spent sailing in Belize and the area of Honduras.  One of the characters in his story was ‘happy as Larry.’ I asked him who Larry was—he had no idea.  His story continued and involved a ‘quick nip’ —hmm……a rapid little trip down the stairs.  Daring to pursue a conversation about British and American politics. we heard him proclaim that “Well, we both have ‘nutters'.”  “Nutters?”  I asked.  People who are crazy.  Of course.  Perfect.  I’m going to make use of “nutters” from now on, reserving it for politicians, not the mentally ill.

The British are quite a humorous lot.  Who else would refer to the "Queen's Bottom"?

After the Cruiser’s Net reviews the weather, the condition of the cuts out onto the Atlantic, invitations to various restaurants, etc….eventually we get to the part of the hour where  cruisers are invited to announce their arrival or departure from this area of the Abacos.  We’ve been here for days already and not uttered a peep on the Net.  Finally, I couldn’t stand it any more—I went on the radio with my favorite radio personality in mind, Garrison Keillor.  “This is Northern Star.  We have actually been here in the harbor of Hope Town for a few days already, but we’re from Minnesota and so we’ve been reluctant to call attention to ourselves.”  A chuckle from the other end.  You see, the advantage of announcing oneself is that other bashful Minnesotans come out of the woodwork and we got to meet them and share stories with them as well.

Gifts from the Queen.  Fancy little things, aren't they?

One of the popular little stories that has begun to circulate in the harbor had its’ origin at our sailboat.  Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning from 8:30 to 9:30, the cruisers’ may bring their garbage to the dock for disposal.  A few of the nice sailors in the harbor take it upon themselves to buzz around in their dinghies and collect garbage from the other boats, thereby reducing the congestion from 20 or 30 dinghies going to the dock with garbage to only three or four dinghies.  Nice folks.  

One of the means of transportation in Hope Town

Last Friday morning the nice gentleman pulled up alongside our boat in his dinghy to chat with Carl briefly after taking our garbage on board.  Jax chose that moment to empty his bladder.  I believe I have mentioned in previous posts that Jax has become quite adept at his urination and elimination tasks onboard.  He very nonchalantly walked on deck, leaned against the cabin roof and peed off the side of the boat.  Apparently it was an impressive arc and it splashed squarely over the dinghy engine and onto the stern of the man’s dinghy.  Well, this was a bit of a surprise, as one might imagine.  Apparently, that had never happened to this man previously.  Why am I not surprised?

This Queen's Highway is less than 2 metres wide.

When the same nice man came by this morning to ask if we had garbage, Jax and I were both in the cockpit.  While laughing, he explained that he has made the story of the dog peeing off the sailboat and onto his dinghy his very own tale.  He told me, “I’ve gotten so much mileage out of that story, and retold it so many times.  I’ve embellished the story so much now that you wouldn’t even recognize it!”  I thought, ‘well, bully for you.’  Bully — another little British expression.  Handy, wasn’t it?

And God save the English wit.  

Lubbers' Quarters, Abacos

Alongside the Tilloo Cut

It just keeps getting better and better!  After two days anchored offshore Elbow Cay, an island that is not only beautiful but offers fairly good protection from all but N/NE winds, I have identified a competitor for the title of “a favorite place” to hang out in the Bahamas. 

A narrow street in Hope Town

It is a charming and historic place— characteristics that remain intact, perhaps owing to the shallowness of the harbor.  Cruise ships are too big and too deep to get into the settlement of Hope Town and so the tourism is a little less bombastic than I imagine it may be in some places. 

Homeowners atop the island of Elbow Cay

Oh, there is definitely evidence of wealthy tourists visiting Hope Town and Elbow Cay—no doubt about that.  But the island does not smack of feeling contrived or exaggerated merely for the sake of tourism. I don’t sense that pulse beating beneath the surface that calls out, “Come in here; Spend your money here; Party here.  Let us entertain you!”  Sitting in our cockpit in the dark, I hear no loud music from shore.  Rather, I hear faint voices and laughter from other anchored boats some distance away, the sound of the Atlantic surf on the other side of the island and the slapping of the water against the dinghy.  Idyllic is the word that comes to mind.

The tide is beginning to recede, revealing the long spit of beach.

We anchored off Tahiti Beach which is the southernmost end of Elbow Cay.  It is a narrow long spit of a beach.  Behind it lies Tilloo Cut—one of the inlets to the Atlantic.   At high tide, Tahiti Beach disappears completely beneath the water.  As the tide recedes the ridge back of the spit of Tahiti Beach rises from the Sea of Abaco and it is stunningly beautiful!  From the widening sandy ridge, the water extends out over a shallow “plate” that rings the spit such that one can walk hundreds of yards out into the water.  A near-sighted observer might say that there appear to be people out there walking on the water.  

At very low tide, Tahiti Beach extends hundreds of yards.

A walk out to Tilloo Cut is interesting.  We found thousands upon thousands (I’m guessing here) of tiny little shelled critters that cling to the jagged reef which makes up the island.  We found other interesting little critters as well, which my biologist husband is often able to identify for me.  Old, no longer habitable conch shells are spread all along the Cut.  

Limpets

Across the Sea of Abaco from Elbow Cay is the misshapen kidney bean shaped island of Lubbers’ Quarters.  People do live on the island here and there, but the thing that the island is well known for are the two restaurants on the beach, side by side toward the south end—Cracker P’s and Lubbers Landing.  

Enjoying company of friends, two and four legged.

The two cruising couples that we have been enjoying some time with (Jax has been introducing their little potcake puppy to the world of dogdom) made plans to dinghy across the Sea of Abaco to Cracker P’s.  As it happened, the day coincided with Easter Sunday.  It was a good long dinghy hop of approximately two miles.  Had we known that dogs were quite welcome, we could have brought Jax with us.  He would have relished the opportunity to herd some smaller dogs.

Jax likes the potcake puppy, Abaco.

I have come to the conclusion that almost every good place to eat in the Bahamas has some rather nefarious history that ought to be known.  Cracker P’s did not disappoint.  As the story goes (written on the backside of the menu) the gentleman who became known by that name was on the run from the States.  He inadvertently shot the Sheriff of his town and then fled to the islands.  I don’t remember what his original American name was, but after spending a little time in the Bahamas, he adopted the name of a gentleman by the last name of Pinder—a common name in the Bahamas.  

A delicious meal at Cracker P's, high above the beach.  All the windows are propped wide open.

This outlaw, Pinder was quite a character.  When he fled the U.S. in ~1870 it was without the benefit of advance planning, or much in the way of clothing it seems.  The menu says that he retains the notoriety of being the first person that many islanders had ever seen who went around in the nude.  (Who were all the other nude people that showed up?  The menu doesn’t say.)  Apparently, modesty was of no concern to him and whether that put a damper on any courtship endeavors is a mystery that I pondered briefly.  At any rate, the menu says he remained single.  He lived on the island of Lubbers’ Quarters where he is remembered for planting soparilla trees around the island.  

Cracker P's in the background.

The baseball sized fruit of the soparilla tree is in fact the basis for Cracker P’s hot sauce, which we enjoyed with our pulled pork.  Hot, smokey and delicious.   Accompanying this was a side of peas and rice, a traditional Bahamian dish that is on every menu, along with macaroni and cheese.  Macaroni and cheese is listed with the vegetable sides in the Bahamas.  Actually the macaroni and cheese is quite good; it’s loaded with cheese and then baked.  More like a dense cheesy lasagna than any mac’n cheese I’ve ever seen. 

Beach in front of Cracker P's

Side options also include french fries, sweet potato fries, and coleslaw, the usual extent of vegetables available at eating establishments in the Abacos.  And of course, we had to try one of the Cracker P’s house rum drinks.  Mine was called “Olde Mutton.”  Suffice it to say, there were no sheep harmed in the making of the drink, but rather it used pineapple juice and rums.  Quite tasty.

Getting the dinghy to go to our boat at anchor off Tahiti Beach.

From Cracker P’s, a dinghy ride back to our boat off of Tahiti Beach was the only precursor to a wonderfully long afternoon nap, which is a rarity for me.  One should probably not indulge in “Olde Mutton” at noon, if intending to stay awake through the afternoon.