Good times in George Town

We got back to George Town on May 3, 2014. The idea was to buy a new outboard for the dinghy and, after breaking in the engine, start going north again to get to the Abacos. From there, we'll cross to the USA again, in preparation for hurricane season.

We did buy the outboard and are quite happy with it. Our older one was fine, but it didn't have the enough power to get us on a plane. There are normally 4 of us, plus snorkel gear, fishing gear and anything else we want to carry; it was too much for the old outboard. This resulted in us taking our sweet time to get anywhere. So we bought a more powerful outboard. Wow, what a difference! The kids are so excited that every time we get to the dinghy they start yelling “go faster, daddy, faster!” The new outboard needs to be serviced after the first 10 hours of use, and so we had to stay put in George Town for a few days. The few days easily turned into almost 3 weeks.

In the meantime, we met two kid boats, Viatori and Horizon. Viatori is a Canadian boat from Edmonton (small world!) with 3 boys. Horizon is an Argentinian boat (did I mention a small world?) with a girl and a boy. Naturally, we got together with them immediately and started spending a lot of time with them.

We fell into an easy routine. School in the morning for me and the kids, while Ernesto did maintenance stuff on the boat, dinghy to town to get groceries or do laundry. Then came lunch at varied times. And then, inevitably, we all ended up in Sand Dollar Beach, where the kids ran, played in the sand, snorkeled and had lots of fun. The adults chatted, and drank mate. And also had a great time. Sometimes, we had dinner together when we were able to accommodate the Canadian and Argentinian dinner times :)

Body boarding with Viatori

This turtle and its mom appeared almost daily next to Taia. Super cute!

Horizon and Taia crew, enjoying the beach.

Viatori, Horizon and Taia's crew

The girls had a sleepover aboard Horizon!

Walk to the Exuma Sound side of Sand Dollar beach

Ernesto scrubbing the bottom of Taia. More than 2 hours of scraping and Taia is finally algae-free.

Ernesto and Jonathan, from Horizon, went spear fishing a few times. So eating fish became a habit too. The kids are becoming experts in identifying fish and get super excited about the catch of the day. Fortunately for us, they like to eat it too!

A few times while snorkeling, they ended up swimming with a female dolphin that was very curious and friendly. She would just come around and start swimming close to them. An out of this world experience!

One afternoon, when we were coming to the boat from Volleyball beach after a lunch at the Chat 'N Chill restaurant, we saw a dolphin swimming in circles around an anchored boat, very close to shore. Immediately, Ernesto jumped to the water. And soon after that, the four of us were in the water with the dinghy securely tied up to the empty boat. We spent more than half an hour being in the water with the dolphin. What an experience! I'm sure this is going to be one of those moments forever ingrained in our memories.

Another ritual is looking at the sharks, trying to decipher what type they are, when Ernesto cleans the fish and throws the remains in the water and after a few minutes, silently, a shark or two or three, appear after they smell the blood and start circling Taia. More than once I was tempted to jump into the water to look at them, but of course, being the chicken that I am, I always stay on board Taia and admire them from above.

Shark! I think it's a lemon shark.

We also had the pleasure of getting together with Distant Shores. Paul and Sheryl are a Canadian couple who have been sailing for many years. They make videos of their travels that they then sell and show on TV. We have watched all of their episodes, dreaming of the day we'd do the same thing. We met them first a few years ago, when we took a cruising seminar in Toronto. We had a great time with them and are really glad we ran into them.

Soon, very soon, we'll all go our different ways. It will be sad to say farewell to friends again. But there's always the hope that our paths will cross again. And the kids keep piling up friends!

Pudding Cut, Exuma, Bahamas

This is another of my piloting posts. It's meant for cruisers looking for information to transit an area that we find somewhat challenging.

On our way back to George Town from the Raggeds and Jumentos, we wanted to avoid beating eastward to Long Island through Comer Channel. Instead, we decided to head north-east from Water Cay, towards Rocky Point in the south western corner of Great Exuma Island (roughly around 23°35' N, 76°04' W).

From Rocky Point, we sailed north through Pudding Cut, to later exit to Exuma Sound through Square Rock Cut (which was an interesting experience in and of itself; of the hang-on-to-your-pants type of experience). Pudding Cut stretches north to south on the west side of Barraterre. Throughout the cut the charts report depths anywhere from 5 to 24 feet.

With our 6-foot draft, we transited the cut with extreme care and on a rising tide. According to the Explorer charts, the tide in the Rocky Point area is approximately 2 hours later than Nassau tides. We approached the cut area at 1045 on 3/May/2014, right around high tide in Nassau.

It is imperative to transit the cut with a good eye for reading the water. Visual Piloting Rules apply! It's not a straight shot north; we followed a snaking track based on what depths we were seeing and the color of the water. At times we even kept a bow watch.

The transit took 1 hour and 15 minutes, while the tide in Nassau was high at +2.2'. The skinniest water we saw was 7.3' in a shallow spot at the north end of the cut. Most of the cut is deeper than that, with 8 feet or more at the time we transited.

By the way, the distance between George Town and Water Cay in the Jumentos through Pudding Cut and Square Rock Cut is 75 miles. The route that goes on the east side of Great Exuma Island, through Thompson Bay and the Comer Channel, is 89 miles. In our case, coming back from the Jumentos on the more westerly route was hugely advantageous, since the wind was a healthy 15 knots from the south east the first day, and 10 to 15 knots from the south on the second day. The sail from Square Rock Cut to Conch Cay Cut wasn't the uncomfortable and slow beat we'd experienced the first time we sailed south east to George Town.

Comer Channel, Exuma, Bahamas

A common route to follow when going to the Jumentos Cays is due west from Thompson Bay in Long Island, through the Comer Channel, and then south west to Water Cay, in the Jumentos. With Taia's 6-foot draft, Comer Channel was a bit of a question mark for us. Chart data in the channel shows depths of barely 6 feet at MLLW.

The obligatory online research landed me on the Passage Reports section of the Bahamas Cruisers Guide web page. There I found a table with information that is extremely useful when planning a passage such as this one. The table shows specific waypoints along the route, along with the time S/V Onward was at those waypoints, the depth they saw, and the tide state at Nassau. I'm putting up a similar table here in the hopes that it will be useful to other cruisers.

Three of the waypoints I show on the table, Comer East, Comer Channel, and Comer West, are the waypoints shown on the Explorer Charts. The other two waypoints are roughly the half way points between the Explorer waypoints.

We transited the channel from east to west on 22/April/2014, arriving at Comer East at 1045. All depths and tide states are expressed in feet. The Minimum Depth column shows the minimum depth we saw transiting from one waypoint (in the previous row) to the next (in the current row).

	Time	Nassau Tide	Depth	Min Depth
Comer East 23°20.80' N 75°19.87' W	1045	+0.7	8.3
Halfway	1103	+0.9	7.5	7.4
Comer Channel 23°19.50' N 75°24.00' W	1127	+1.2	7.8	7.1
Halfway	1204	+1.5	8.4	7.8
Comer West 23°20.25' W 75°31.50' N	1242	+1.9	11.5	8.4

The Extraordinary Adventures of Shambala and Taia in the Jumentos Cays and the Ragged Islands

“What kind of fish is this?”

“It's a parrotfish.”

“Is it edible?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

I utter that last line of dialogue under my breath, for I'm talking with a six-year-old. This is an endearing boat-kid who obviously has much to teach me about fish and fishing. He's probably sailed more miles than me, to boot. He's 6. I'm 41.

Normally I would ask Paul, the kid's dad, before spearing the fish. But Paul is many meters away, pole-spear in hand, surveying the reef and knowing which of the hundreds of fish we see are good eating. Parrotfish aren't good eating. That's why there's so many of them and they're so easy to spear. I just ended a life with impunity, without guilt, because I thought I'd be putting food on the table. Now I get to live with the guilt and, more importantly, the dead fish gets to do or feel nothing ever again.

We are snorkeling and spear-fishing in a reef just west of Water Cay, in the Jumentos Cays. The sail to Water from Thompson Bay in Long Island took Shambala and Taia eight hours. For the next few days we'll be exploring these uninhabited islands with Shambala. Two boats, two families, many uninhabited islands, beaches, clear water, and plenty of fish to catch and eat.

Young crews of Shambala and Taia

Paul has been teaching me to spear-fish, and this is my second time wielding a pole-spear in a reef. The first time was a few days ago, in Elizabeth Harbour, where we caught nothing (but we swam with a dolphin for a good half hour, which was a much better experience than killing fish whimsically). But now we're in the Jumentos, and because these cays are so isolated and out of the way, they're not heavily fished. There are all sorts of fish living in reefs that have all sorts of corals. And there are barely any other boats around!

After that sour experience with the parrotfish, I make sure to ask Paul what fish is good for eating. He points at a triggerfish and assures me those are good eating. I proceed to spear not one, but two of them. Not too shabby for a n00b! And on the way back to the boat I pick up a few conch.

The first fish I speared (that was edible)

That night we had a feast: triggerfish, hogfish, conch, and grouper. Staci from Shambala did most of the cooking. The sea is plentiful and can give these two families all the protein we need.

Buena Vista Cay

From Water Cay we sailed to Flamingo Cay. While spear-fishing in Flamingo I realized that around here we can easily become somebody else's dinner. As we swam around in the biggest finger coral reef I've ever seen, we saw a few barracuda and two bull sharks. Barracuda make me uneasy, but I'm slowly getting used to them being around. Apparently they only attack if they feel threatened. A small bull shark that swims by can also be safely ignored. But a big one, maybe bigger than a grown man, falls under the category of “let's-get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” We saw one such bull shark. Thus I came to the realization that spear-fishing can put food on the table, but I'm competing for food with local predators that are at the top of the food chain.

Taia, Shambala, and their crews in Buena Vista Cay

In Raccoon Cay Paul and I went spear-fishing again. After a couple of hours in the water, we came back with a school master and two glasseye snappers. I got a chance to improve my fish-cleaning skills using the school master as the subject of my butchery. Then Paul taught me how to gill and gut one of the glasseyes. We were doing this at the beach with water up to our ankles. While Paul expertly worked on the first glasseye, I decided to rinse off a knife and a cutting board. That wasn't a smart move on my part.

Suddenly, Paul yelped and jumped out of the water. Not knowing what was going on, I looked back and saw a shark not 2 meters away from where Paul was standing. I proceeded to unceremoniously get out of the water, as fast as my legs would take me. The shark had smelled the small amount of fish blood I'd just rinsed. And here I was thinking that I was very clever for dumping a fish carcass and some discarded pieces of fish in a bucket rather than in the water. What hungry creature would smell that tiny amount of blood I'd just rinsed off?

Sharks. Bull sharks. The kind of shark that might have gone for a human ankle thinking that was the source of the blood. Fortunately we both got out of the water before the first shark helped himself.

We ended up spending a good 20 minutes looking at the sharks. And we gave them both glasseye snappers, just to be able to see them thrash in a shallow 30 cm of water. The Shambala and Taia crews were enthralled by these spectacular creatures. The kids ran out of words to describe the awesomeness of the moment, so they came up with a single word that describes it perfectly, a word that is better than awesome: extraordinary. It was extraordinary to see the two sharks eat every chunk of fish we threw in the water.

Shambala and Taia under different sail combinations

As Shambala and Taia continue their trek south, through the Jumentos and the Ragged Islands, both crews share daily activities and end each day with a feast of ocean protein. The adults chat in the cockpit while the kids play in the cabin. All eight of us are having a great time (and a lot of freshly caught fish!).

We are now anchored in Hog Cay, a mere 3 miles from Duncan Town, the only settlement in this group of islands. According to our guide, the settlement's population is a whopping 100. Soon we'll start heading back north, towards George Town, while Shambala goes north west, towards Florida.

It's been an incredible few days; postcard material for those who love to cruise in areas that offer nothing but wilderness. The best part has been to share the experience with Shambala. Paul and Staci, as well as their two wonderful children, have made the exploration of this deserted paradise that much more enjoyable, that much more interesting. To them I say thanks!

George Town

George Town is known as the cruisers' paradise. Up to 300 boats can be anchored in Elizabeth Harbour during the winter and early spring. Some people like it so much they just stay here all the time.

We got there late in the season and therefore only saw about 100 boats. It looked like a small lighted city from the distance at sunset.

Elizabeth Harbour with "only" 100 anchored boats.

The following day, a Sunday, we decided to check out the town. We got there at noon, hoping to find a nice and cheap restaurant but everything was closed. So we quickly changed destinations and decided to go to the beach. The popular Volleyball Beach is very nice. Not only do people play volleyball but there's also a nice pub/restaurant. There's also a place that sells conch salad and the remains of the conch are fed to sting rays that are so used to being surrounded by humans that they don't mind being there and being touched. We saw up to 5 of them and played with them for a while. Camila was really excited about this!

Cami touching one of the sting rays.

Walk to the monument (at the top of the hill). The monument is not very nice but the view up there is beautiful.

Kids from Perry, Shambala and Taia.

Marshmallows roasting at the beach.

Being there late, we missed pretty much all the other family boats. But we met the family living aboard Perry and re-united with Shambala, whom we had last seen in Vero Beach, Florida. These two families travel with two kids the same age as ours. As a result, the next few days were filled with kids activities: sand tobogganing, strolls up to the Monument, playing on the beach, playdates and even a bonfire!

I have to say that the city itself was a bit of a disappointment for me. I was expecting a nice and colorful city, similar to Hope Town, in the Abacos. But George Town is not as well kept as Hope Town. The area with the markets and the banks is not so bad, but if you walk a bit beyond that you start to see something that has become common on our strolls through different towns in the Bahamas: stalled construction sites. Lots of them.

But the natural scenery is worth an extended visit. And so is the opportunity to spend time with other cruising families.

Next in our travels are the Jumentos and the Ragged Islands. Looking forward to that.

Exuma Dreamin' (on Such a Winter's Day)

We had been told that the Exumas are beautiful, with more bountiful reefs, and water so clear you might ask yourself whether you are flying instead of sailing. It's been a week since we arrived in the Exumas, and the more time we spend here, the farther south we go, the more proof we find that these Bahamian islands are indeed beautiful. And we ain't seen nothing yet!

Exuma Dreamin'

Our first Exuma landfall was in Leaf Cay, the cay immediately to the east of the better known Allens Cay. This cluster of cays, Allens being the biggest of the cluster, is famed for the iguanas that inhabit the islands. The iguanas, far from being afraid or even shy, come out to the beach as soon as they see boats approaching. They want food, which is easier to acquire from the hands of uneducated human visitors than from the brush inside the island. It's unfortunate that people either don't read or ignore the signs that specifically state that iguanas should not be fed. These iguanas aren't large; the biggest we saw couldn't be more than 90 cm from head to tail. Some of them are fat, though, and their gait appears tired as they drag their inflated bellies over the sand.

Iguanas on the beach (the two on the left, wearing human clothing, are the most sophisticated of the lot)

Feed me or get off my beach!

From Allens we did a short 14-mile hop to Normans Cay, where we elegantly ran aground on the sandbar while trying to find a good anchoring spot, as close to the cay as possible. Fortunately we've learned to move around these shallow cruising grounds on a rising tide, so the moon made sure Taia didn't remain aground for long, just long enough to cause mild irritation of the nautical ego; nature's reminder that we should always remain humble. Less than 2 hours later we were safely anchored in front of Normans Cay.

Back in the 80's, Normans Cay was controlled by Colombian drug dealer Carlos Lehder. One of his planes, I believe a DC-3, had some trouble approaching the airstrip and the pilot was instructed to ditch the plane in the water. It's not clear whether the plane was carrying coke for later distribution in the US or sod for good Carlos's Bahamian backyard (and I'm not being facetious here, we've heard both stories from different people). Regardless of the plane's cargo, it crash-landed in the shallow waters just south and east of the cay. The upside for us, 30 or so years later, is that Gaia took over the crash site and it's become a great snorkeling spot. We dinghied over at slack low water and had the place all to ourselves.

Aisle or window?

Mace Windu: I've had it with these motherfuckin' sharks on this motherfuckin' plane!

With a bit of a coke and sod aftertaste, we went back to Taia and got her ready for a 25-mile sail to Warderick Wells, the cay that houses the Exuma Land and Sea Park headquarters. This Bahamian national park is littered with cays, rocks, coral reefs, all of them surrounded by the clearest water we've ever seen.

In Warderick Wells we hiked up to Boo Boo Hill, where cruisers are allowed to add a piece of driftwood with their boat's name to a pile that's been accumulating for years. Boo Boo Hill takes its name from local lore about a ship that sank in the area a few centuries ago (I'm not sure exactly when the boat sank and my internet connection is barely functional, so I can't look it up). The boat sank and every soul aboard it drowned. It is said that the ghosts of the drowned roam the island around the hill, making the traditional “boo” sound with which ghosts like to scare and startle us.

The ghosts of Boo Boo Hill

On another hike we did in Warderick Wells we saw the ruins of a loyalist settlement. The ruins must be from the 18^th century. As we walked through the ruins, we wondered at the criteria these people used to select a place to settle. The island is a pile of sand and rock and is in an area in which rainfall is limited to a few millimetres a year. There are mangroves and a few other trees and shrubs. Oh, and the “wells” part of the name doesn't mean “water wells.” It's not surprising that their settlement ended up in ruins. Choice of place must have been quite limited for those people.

Ruins on Warderick Wells

As interesting as Warderick Wells was, the anchorage wasn't very comfortable and we decided to keep moving south but without leaving the national park. We aimed the bow at Bell Island, in the southern edge of the park. There we found the prettiest, most impressive anchorage and surroundings we've seen in the Bahamas. Not only that, but every other boat was moored or anchored in the mooring field in front of Cambridge Cay, about a mile south of our anchorage. We had the place to ourselves! And we were anchored a mere 200 meters from an incredible reef. This reef has all types of corals, growing like columns sticking up from the sandy bottom 6 meters below the surface. We snorkeled this place several times throughout the 2 days and nights we spent there. Unfortunately, and most ironically, our underwater camera succumbed to a flooded housing and we can no longer take underwater pictures. It doesn't matter, though. This place has to be experienced personally.

The good ship Taia in Pasture Cay, Exuma Land and Sea Park (the island in the back belongs to Johnny Depp - we did not see him)

We encountered two stingrays and two eagle rays. One of the eagle rays, sporting a tail that must have been 2 meters long, glided pleasantly right underneath me. It was a magic encounter with a magnificent creature of the sea.

The customary cold front was approaching and we decided to await it in the Big Majors Spot – Staniel Cay area. A big plus about this place is that we got to spend a wonderful afternoon and evening with Hold Fast, whom we hadn't seen in two months (last time we saw them was in Man-O-War, Abaco). Hold Fast sailed away to Eleuthera the morning after.

Myron and Dena showed us Thunderball Grotto, a grotto made famous by a 007 movie starring Sean Connery. We snorkeled around the grotto at high tide. I submerged a few feet to enter the grotto under water. Inside the grotto is a dome 8 meters high and 10 meters in diameter; once I swam through the hole underwater I could come above the surface to breath and be awestruck by the natural structure. This is another place that begs to be experienced in person. There's a reef all around the small island and the openings to enter the grotto are part of the reef. There are 2 or 3 holes in the roof and some people dive through the holes and into the water in the grotto. I'm hoping to try that out tomorrow at high tide, when the water in the grotto is enough to dampen the fall.

After snorkeling Thunderball Grotto we went to Pigs Beach. Get this: Pigs Beach is a beach that has pigs. These pigs are so used to humans feeding them, that they actually race to the water every time they see a boat approaching. They squeal angrily demanding food and drink. They're not wild, though, so we were happy to comply and gave them some potatoes and fresh water. (I can't believe we gave some of our precious fresh water to a bunch of angry pigs!)

Noooo! That pig is drinking my fresh water!

Get away from the dinghy, pig!

The piggy in the baseball hat looks hungry

The Exumas are fulfilling and surpassing our expectations. The water is crystal clear, the marine life is abundant and colourful, the snorkeling is beyond compare. This is cruising. This is not a dream, this is real.

Bye Abacos

We left Hope Town on Saturday March 15. The plan was to do a quick stop at Marsh Harbour to do some provisioning and then head south to the Exumas.

The quick stop at Marsh Harbour ended up taking a lot longer than planned due to bad weather. With strong winds coming from the south, heading to the Exumas was out of the question. We didn't want to stay in Marsh Harbour either. The bay, although big, is usually packed with boats. When strong winds are predicted we usually prefer, when possible, to drop anchor in a protected bay where Taia is not going to have other boats at close proximity. The reason for this is simple: if we drag anchor, we don't want to hit other boats. If other boats drag anchor, we don't want to get hit.

In the span of a week we stayed at Archers Cay, Red Bay, Tavern Cay, Pelican Cay, Tilloo Cay and Lynyard Cay.

We finally got a nice weather window to cross the 57 nm on the Atlantic side to Royal Island, on the east side of Eleuthera, on Sunday March 24. On Monday we were treated to a beautiful and hot day. We checked out the small island, including the ruins of a 1950's resort that never came to be. We also went to the beach.

Walking around Royal Island.

Ruins of a 1950 resort.

We saw lots of this little guy here.

The plan was to stay in Royal Island for a few days, until the strong winds abated. Once again, the plan had to be changed due to the weather.

After a few days of strong winds and nothing else to do on the deserted island, we decided to find a new anchorage. We ended up going to Current Settlement and walked around the beautiful town. We went to the store to do some provisioning again and visited the local library. We met Sue, the lovely lady that runs the library and ended up staying there for a few hours where the kids read and even got a few books as a gift.

Playing in yet another playground, Current Settlement.

In front of the local library.

We are watching the weather closely. It looks like we might be able to cross the final 50 nm to the Exumas on Sunday or Monday. We'll keep our fingers crossed.

Life and Death of a Conch

A conch is a gastropod. Gastropods have a soft body and grow a protective shell around the body. The Sea of Abaco is the perfect environment for these gastropods to thrive. Additionally, conch is a great source of healthy protein. And, as if that weren't enough, the shells can be beautiful and make for great decoration. Garden paths lined with shells are quite common here in the Abacos. Finally, the shells can be converted into conch horns, the precursor to the dreaded vuvuzela (or, like we call them in Argentina since long before they became popular during the 2010 World Cup, corneta).

The previous paragraph summarizes the few hard facts we've learned about conch since arriving in The Bahamas. But the more interesting aspect about our conch experience is how the friends we've made introduced us to conch and the culture around it. One by one, our friends furnished us with information about this gastropod. It's been an experience of discovery and friendship. The kind of experience I hoped to have when I dreamed about cruising.

Upon arriving in Man-O-War, Myron and Dena told us they'd been conching (the act of picking up live conch from the sea bed) and gave the kids a couple of discarded shells. They taught us how to clean the shells and told us about the different ways conch can be prepared for eating. A few days later they gave us some of Dena's delicious conch salsa; that's Dena's own recipe. I made conch salsa omelette... yum.

Conch salsa omelette

When we took part on our first dinghy drift, we learned about the Bahamian tradition of blowing a conch horn at sunset. A sort of Sun salutation. Anchorages around the Sea of Abaco sound like a tame football stadium when the Sun gives its last beams of the day.

One night we were visiting Art and Vicki on Don Quixote, and Art showed me what a conch horn looks like and told me how it can be made. Then we met Kim and Les on Willamia and wondered at Les's ability at making a conch howl evenly for several seconds at a time. I had the information on how to make a conch horn, had seen a couple of working samples, and that was enough to get my restless hands to work.

Tools of the conch horn maker

A proper conch horn is made with a discarded conch shell, sealing the hole that's chipped away when extracting the conch from the shell, and cutting off the spire of the shell to make a blow hole. Sounds simple. Out came the hacksaw and the epoxy. My first attempt at making one wasn't quite successful. Barry from Beach Cruiser came around for a visit and checked out my handy work. He gave me some advice on how to improve it and I got to work on the second shell. The second one was successful. I may have had to get technological the second time around, and may have used a Dremel to make sure the blow hole was the right size and shape.

Don't chip away any more than necessary!

Another thing Barry did is describe what a good place to find adult conch looks like. He mentioned 5 to 6 meters of water, on or around a grassy patch, and close to or in a cut. A cut is a place where the Sea of Abaco and the Atlantic Ocean meet. When we were relaxing on Tahiti Beach a couple of days ago I realized that I could dinghy out to Tilloo Cut in a few minutes. I didn't have my snorkeling gear, just a pair of goggles. Away I went to the cut.

It took me a few minutes to spot and pick up a couple of adult conch. The adults are identified by the size of the shell and the thickness of the lip. The bigger the shell and thicker the lip, the older they are. And here's where Melissa and K from Morning Star come in. Melissa was paddling around the cut that morning, so I went over and proudly showed her my catch. I needed someone to tell me how to clean and cook the conch. She suggested we get together that night and they would show us how to process the day's catch. She also said I should go back for more to make sure we had enough for both families.

While K taught me how to clean the conch, Melissa and Natalia got everything ready to make cracked conch. The cleaning is somewhat challenging for a city boy like me. My first concern was the fact that I would be ending a few lives. I made sure I said sorry to the conch I killed before plunging the knife. Regardless of my meaningless apology, the conch died silently and, hopefully, quickly. I choose to think the conch knew how Gaia works; we're all part of the same organism and dying to feed each other is just the way Gaia stays alive. Right?

K (right) taught Mike (centre) and me how to clean conch while Natalia supervised (photo by Melissa Guinness)

Then came the dirty steps. After removing the conch from the shell, tissue needs to be cut off, skin needs to be peeled off. This also involved eating a transparent noodle-looking thing that we pulled out of the body. K said real Bahamians eat the noodle while they clean the conch. Lore maintains the noodle is an aphrodisiac. I could not let it go to waste. It tastes like salty goo. The wine we had that night may have been more of an aphrodisiac than the noodle.

Skinning conch with my teeth (photo by Melissa Guinness)

Yet again the culture around the conch made life interesting and fun. We ate good food, but more importantly, we shared this good food with good friends.

From left to right: Ernesto, Mike, a plate full of cracked conch, K, Melissa, Natalia (photo by the Guinnesses)

There's something primevally satisfying about using my own hands to gather food from the wild and feed my family. That's also pretty cool.