We’re in Fox Town only there are no foxes here, neither the
animal or urban dictionary type.
Fox Town has a population of just over 200 people. It has a
church (of course), and a restaurant/town bar called Da Valley with it’s own
dock. And one table.
Next door there is a Shell station which consists of two
ancient pumps next to the road. No building, no shelter per say. But the fuel
hose reaches all the way down to the dock to serve the few local speed boats.
There is no bank or ATM for 60 miles.
There are three stores. These are not stores in the
traditional sense. There are no signboards or overhead fluorescent lights. Each
store is the front room of a house with one domestic fridge and two or three
hand crafted wooden shelves displaying whatever they have.
Yesterday we arrived and scrambled to shore to shop! Between the three stores we were able to get one sweet
potato (last one in town!), a dozen eggs, two tomatoes, a green pepper that was
only half rotting, and a head of lettuce. A head of lettuce!
No cabbage or fresh milk or salami or dark chocolate
(haha!!), or anything much else for that matter. Judy of Da Valley, drives the
80 miles down to Marsh Harbour randomly, and comes back with items to sell in
the shops. No one can tell what day or week she might go.
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| Judy of Da Valley |
Unless you are a desperate clan of cruisers who arrive on
the verge of scurvy, having spent the better part of two weeks without a fresh
vegetable, and who beg, I mean inquire, as to when she would go next and would
she entertain the idea of taking our shopping lists. It’s either that or sail
two days through some tricky shallows and come all the way back…
And as it goes, Judy said yes!!! So we wait until Monday
when she will go and bring us some food. And hence we find ourselves anchored
in Fox Town on a Sunday. Nothing is open but the church, so there’s no point
going to shore.
Since the local fishermen feed the black tip sharks in this
bay, there will be no swimming either.
We have been spoiled by walks and leisurely swims on beaches
and nightly braais (barbecues) on said beaches for the past two weeks.
We visited Allen's Pensacola Cay which has bushes and beaches and a Hilton sign painted on a shack. It has a few trails that lead to huge trees, littered with boater's names and dates of visiting. Those who'd come before us. And so we set to making our own sign to leave a legacy of plastic beads and good vibes. While our friends and family afar worked at desks, we worked on our sign and we hung it with pride.
And then that task was completed and the beaches had all been walked and inhaled and photographed.
We haven’t been to an island with more than 6 people as it’s
population. It’s been refreshing and special and peaceful.
But we crave a bit of civilization after a while. And even a
burger. Last night at Da Valley we sat at the one table and gasped and moaned
in gastronomic ecstacy as we gobbled down burgers and fries. And yes, they are
NOT on our diet but every rule has been thrown out the window as we emerge from
the beachy wilderness into the cosmopolitan metropolis of Fox Town.
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| Fun times with friends at Da Valley |
Today, with no agenda, we’ll probably take the dinghies out
in search of a deserted beach…
