A Sudden Trip to the Bahamas

This post is late because I just returned from a fishing trip to Grand Cay, Abaco, Bahamas with my two boys and my friend, Larry. Larry has been going to Grand Cay for well over 20 years, and he has a number of Bahamians friends there.

The trip was a short notice thing. Mike and I got a call from Larry on Sunday, July 22, that he was thinking of going. On Monday he said it was a definite go or Wednesday. On Tuesday, Mike and I drove six hours to Tallahassee to pick up Jake, and then the three of us drove four and a half hours to Larry’s house in Clearwater.

It was strange to be Pinellas County again after nearly 11 months away. The traffic, congestion and construction were as horrible as I remembered it. We had time to drive by our old house. Curiously, even though I spent 34 years living in that house and raised a family there, I felt no real affinity or sentimentality for the place. Even the kids felt that way. I guess we’ve moved on.

We stayed the night at Larry’s house and got up at 4:30 am to tow his boat, a 32 foot Contender, to West Palm Beach where we launched. It’s 109 miles to Grand Cay, the seas were 3-4 feet, and we hit a couple of rainstorms on the way over. It took us four and a half hours to get there. When you’re bouncing in an open boat doing close to 40 miles an hour in a rainstorm with sea spray coming over the rails the only thing you can do is hunker down and go to that happy place inside until you get to where you are going.

Of course, we had a blast in the Bahamas. We fished and dove on coral heads to spear fish during the day. Mike and Jake spent the evenings chasing the daughters of other people who were visiting the island. By the time we left, all the bartenders and DJs knew them by name, and they had been unofficially adopted by Frankie, the Bahamian fishing guide who always drops everything to guide Larry when he comes over. Frankie is The Dude on Grand Cay, and he kept telling people that he was Jake’s and Mike’s uncle from another mother.

Grand Cay is a small island no more than a mile long and a couple of hundred yards wide. About 450 people live there. There are no roads on the island, but there is an eight foot wide concrete path down the center for those fortunate enough to own golf carts. The path even has a couple of speed bumps. I know that because I tripped over them every night on my way back to my room.

There are a couple of small hotels on the island, a marina, several restaurants, and four or five bars. It’s all very low key and not fancy. The power comes from generators and the water from a desalinization plant on the island. Everything else―food, supplies, building materials, etc.―is barged in twice a week from Freeport.

The Boss Hog on the island is Rosie, a reported former drug runner. Rosie owns the marina, a hotel, a restaurant and a bar. He now makes his money legitimately by catering to sports fisherman large sport fishing boats who come to the island from the States. Rosie owns his own barge to supply his little empire and bring fuel to his marina which he sells at exorbitant rates to fishermen.

In many respects Grand Cay is a small town like Blue Ridge. It has a little school and a small government building. I’m told there is a policeman on the island, but I’ve never seen him.

I’m afraid that Grand Cay will lose its quiet Bahamian charm in the coming years. It’s been discovered by wealthy people from the States. A couple of homes have been built recently by well-to-do Americans, and I suspect that more will be built in the future. 

We came back to Florida on Sunday, July 27. It was a marathon day. We left Grand Cay at 6:30 in the morning and made it to the dock in West Palm in three hours. The seas were two feet or less, and there was no rain. We were back in Clearwater by early afternoon. After helping Larry clean the boat, Jake, Mike and I drove to Tallahassee. We got there around 8:00 in the evening. The next day Mike and I drove back to Blue Ridge.

It’s good to be back in the mountains where the air is cool and fresh, the scenery is green, and stoplights are rare. I think that ends my excursions to Florida for the year, and I'm looking forward to getting back in a comfortable routine. 

On another note, my garden has been producing prodigiously. Meredith has canned at least 20 jars of tomato sauce and frozen at least 10 pounds of green beans. Just before Mike and I left for the Bahamas we picked almost 50 pounds of cabbage which Meredith made into sauerkraut. Last night we ate the first ears of sweet corn from the garden. Not bad for my first big garden in Georgia. I’m focusing now on what I will grow in my fall garden.