Waiting on Weather in Spanish Wells

25.5469° N – 76.7639° W

After spending the Holidays in Spanish Wells—much of it at Buddha’s snack shack—we moved back onto the OG on January 3. 

Camping out at the “Palm Cottage” for the previous ten days proved prudent, as one low pressure system after another made its way through the northern Bahamas. From December 25 to January 2, a series of strong, cold and unrelenting northers kept us inshore. We played lots of Rummikub, patronized every restaurant on the island (at least three times) and spent lots of time on the beach, despite the cold.

On at least three occasions, we went to the boat, intending to go for a sail, only to turn back: “no way we can make it out in this, without hurting ourselves or the boat.” Patience with things we cannot control (e.g., weather) will be difficult for us (me) to master on this trip.

Moving back onto the boat on January 3 was a challenge, as the reality of what laid before us materialized for the kids and for their parents. It took two days to stow all our crap and to get settled. Lots of tears, as the kids adjusted to life on the boat. In truth, Joy and I strongly considered whether this was a still a good idea. “Well, this is what we came for,” we thought. It wasn’t designed to be a vacation.

To ease the transition, we took the opportunity to visit Meeks Patch and finally found the swimming pigs that eluded us on the delivery. “Best day of my life,” Evelyn said. Hopefully we will hear that a few more times before we’re done and that they will understand the value in what we’re doing, maybe years from now.

Utilizing the Pinder Taxi/Ferry service, we also day-tripped our way to Harbor Island. Harbor Island is a “must see” for some, but for us it was rather depressing. As warned by another sailor in Spanish Wells, Harbor Island is about contrasts: extreme wealth and extreme poverty, e.g., 200-foot mega-yachts docked half a block from a shantytown.

All of the best spots on the island are privately owned, with warning signs posted forbidding access. These are half-finished, massive vacation homes—some advertising 8 bedrooms, an equal number of baths, home theaters and private gyms—blocking all access to, and views of, the water. Pretty distasteful considering the abject poverty surrounding these homes, and with no public easement allowing local access to the water. We stayed in Harbor Island for lunch, tried to put some money into the local economy, and fled back to Spanish Wells.

While waiting for weather, I also took the opportunity to hire a guide to teach me how to spearfish for lobster. Frankly, I had a difficult time free-diving to sufficient depths, to the disgust of my 23-year-old guide. Big gulps of seawater didn’t help either. In all, I speared one small lobster and a nice-sized grouper, but could not capture these small victories in photos from in the water. I intend to master this skill before heading back to Chicago to spear lobsters in Lake Michigan.

While preparing to depart the Spanish Wells we also met another family on a similar Sabbatical. The McGraw family from Houston is on their own journey, though taking a year-and-a-half, instead of a single Caribbean sailing season.

We traded stories of sailing, covid and life back home, enjoyed some rare and satisfying socializing with good people.  We hung out for a couple more days and decided to “buddy-boat” our way down Eleuthera.